Derik of the Opera
by Nemthenga
Summary: what happens when someone :coughcough- Marty Stu-coughcough: takes on Erik's life? a lot of trouble!


**I am the almighty La Regina Phantom. I also am the queen of England. I own a notebook that has German verbs in present, past, present perfect, past perfect, and future tense. I also own Derik. DO NOT MESS WITH ME!!! **

**--- LRP**

ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£

The Derik of the opera

Derik walked into the tunnel. He was six foot four, ripped, and was barefoot except for one lone sock on his left foot. He had black hair that was thick and luxurious. He had golden eyes. All in all, he looked like a handsome version of Erik. That was no surprise as he really was Erik's long lost, twin, half-brother. He smiled as he prepared for his first ever music lesson. He had never taught anyone before, but since he had all and more of his brother's talent, (with better people skills), he was confidant.

_The authoress retched after reading about this model of perfection._

When he arrived behind the mirror, Derik started to softly sing. "You are even hotter than Cher, can I watch you from behind this mirror and stare?"

Christine was a bit taken back. Not only did the voice somewhat resemble that of William hung, her angel had never spoken to her such words. She wasn't even sure he knew who or what Cher was. "Angel, are you feeling alright?" she asked worriedly. Was he coming down with something and was it contagious?

Derik smiled at what he thought was a concern for his health. Little did he know Christine Daáe could care less for his health. Instead he started opening the mirror. "Come to me, my angel of utter and complete hotness. Come to me." Christine would have never entered the mirror if someone's hand had not reached out and pulled her in. she struggled as this person picked her up and carried her off in the direction of the lake. She ended up kicking several parts of that someone's anatomy. The sixty-third point of impact seemed a bit much to him. the person put her down and told her that it was time to go sleepy. Then all she could see was black...

Derik looked down on Christine. I never knew that sopranos could weigh so much, he thought. And the way she was kicking is going to leave a nasty bruise on my ribs. He sighed and started dragging Christine's limp body behind him. He was going to take his love down to the house by the lake and there they would live a happy existence, rising up their children. He was going to name the boys' Marty Stu and the girls' Mary sue.

_The authoress attempted to commit suicide after reading that last line on her computer. "I hate Mary sues!" She screamed at the ceiling. She grabbed her laptop and ran out the door to find someone to help her._

By the time they were three meters from the lake, Derik was covered in sweat. For some reason he had removed his shirt, perhaps due to a random idea that he looked more manly without a shirt with sweat stains on it. He puffed, unused to such a long walk. I will have my brother make me a chair to travel this, he thought to himself. He whooped with joy when he reached the shore of the lake. "I just need the boat, and we can live happily ever after." He whispered to himself.

_The authoress ran even faster, trying to get to the two people whom could help her before she had to read anymore about her creation._

Derik slowly wandered the shore, looking for the boat. He was much surprised when he happened to see it was tied up at the docks. It never occurred to him that was the logical place for a boat. He dragged Christine to the boat, dumped her inside, and started rowing. Or at least attempted to. The boat was still tied up. Derik reached for his sword and started hacking at the boat. Three minutes later, he had managed to free the boat as well as creating several holes in the bottom. Happily he rowed the boat towards the house.

After two near capsizing, they reached the shore with half a boat full of water. Derik picked up the limp form of Christine and carried her inside, nearly breaking her neck on the doorframe. There he more or less threw her on a bed and started to serenade her.

When Christine awoke, she honestly thought she was in hell. There was the demon that had knocked her unconscious and he was gazing lewdly at her body. She swung her arm at the smiling face. For a timid chorus girl, she certainly knew how to throw a punch. She hit Derik in the mouth. He managed to bite his tongue. "Christine, it is I! Your angel of music! I am Derik!" he cried out to Christine. "I, who have brought you here, and all for my love for you. Even though you have made me bleed, I still love you Christine!" he shouted to Christine, whom was staring at his naked chest, his one sock, and his crazed face. He finished, "you are the queen of my heart and as long as you do not touch my sock. You are free to come or go as long as my sock is untouched."

Christine stared in horror at this nearly naked man whom was raving about his sock. Somewhere in her mind, a little voice said, that reminds me of Erik. Isn't this his house? She gasped in horror at Derik. "Are you related to Erik?" She said, confused. The man nodded. "I am his long lost twin half brother, Derik. We both carry the same hideous marks on our bodies." He almost boasted. Christine rapidly put the sock comments and this together.

The authoress finished talking to a gentleman in eveningwear with a top hat. He nods and runs towards an overly decorated building. She runs back to her room to record something.

"You, your foot, its like Erik's face!" she cried. Derik turned paler than bleach at her words. "You little fool, feast your eyes, glut your soul on Derik's accursed ugliness! You would have come back if you had thought me handsome! Oh Christine, I cry, for you Christine!" he screamed. He bent over and whipped of his sock. There, was a foot so ugly that nothing in the universe could prepare one for it. Except a love of Erik or a knowledge of oversized, hair covered knobby feet. He continued his rant. "You will now have to stay with me, forever now! We will have many children together and name them all, MARY SUE!!!! Except for the boys. We'll name the first one for me and the rest will be named... MARTY STU!!!!" Christine gasped again in horror. Nothing could have ever been worse than that fate. Suddenly the door flew open and in stormed one familiar person. A very familiar person. It was...

I'm bored.... again.

I really think I should end this story.

It's overly silly.

And it's all to create an archfiend for my other Mary Sue stories.

And we all know its Richard Firman or André Monte chairman, here to protect their investment.

You don't believe me, do you?

You happen to have outsmarted me.

This was supposed to be a cliffhanger chapter.

Raoul.

" Get back from her, demon!" Derik sneered. "You didn't even defeat my brother and you think you can best me, the perfect one! Christine will stay down here, with me, forever. She loves me better than any mere FOP!" Raoul took a deep breath, and counted to eighteen. At that moment a figure strode in through the open door. With her opera cloak billowing behind her, the authoress stalked in, very wet. "DDDIIIIIIEEEE! YOU MOSTER! THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS LONG LOST TWIN HALF BROTHERS!" She screamed at the figure of Derik. She ran at him, raising a laptop to slam into his head. With the rage that is only beknownst to those whom have ever seen a second soprano really pissed off, dripping wet from swimming across an underground lake, and on a sugar high, she struck Derik's perfect head.

" Might I suggest this?" a new voice said from the direction of the doorway. It was Erik, holding out his Punjab lasso. The authoress squealed as though it were josh Groban and Alan Rickman all rolled into one, with chocolate on the side. She ran towards him. She grabbed the lasso and turned back to Derik, whom was clutching his head. She began to laugh manically as she threw the lasso about his perfectly proportionate neck. Erik walked over to Christine, followed closely by Raoul. "You all right?" he asked in the voice that makes fan fiction writers swoon. Christine nodded. "Is he... is he really your long lost twin brother, though?" she asked, carefully trying not to catch the authoress's attention. However a showing of the phantom of the opera could have been playing and she wouldn't have been distracted. Much.

Erik smiled behind his mask. "No," he said, "he was a ... MARTY STU!" Christine blanched. "I thought something was weird when he attempted to kidnap me. He spent a lot of time agonizing about his foot. Oh, Erik, it just made me realize how much i am in love with you1" Erik looked at Raoul. "No hard feelings?" he asked, with his hand outstretched. Raoul shook his hand. " Congratulations. May I give Christine away, however?" Erik nodded. "You are the closest thing to family she's got. Lunch Tuesday?" Christine said breathlessly, "but Erik, you haven't even asked me to marry you yet!" Erik started to smile again. He bent onto one knee. "Christine, will you be mine?" he asked hopefully. " Yes Erik." She said starting to cry with joy. "That's. My. Line." Gasped the Marty Stu. The authoress had hogtied him and was in the process of dragging him out to the now sunk boat. "Bye," she said. She ran back and kissed Erik full on the lips. Christine watched in amazement. "This may be the last time I can kiss you," the authoress explained. She ran out of the room. They all stared after her in astonishment. Then Raoul broke the silence. "I guess the story's over." he said, leaving by the same door. Christine and Erik looked after his retreating back, then at each other. They both moved towards one another. Slowly their lips opened as they leaned...

The authoress drops a curtain over them. She turned back and walked over to the body of the Marty Stu, where Raoul awaited her. Calmly, they took out sporks and proceeded to poke the Marty Stu to death. And then some more. And then skipped around singing phantom power. Yes, second sopranos are scary after consuming three liters of Midnight Black ™ mountain dew and a chocolate muffin. But then, so is life.

ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£ï£

The authoress waves goodbye. "Please read some more of my work." She is saying.

**Please, review. Or I shall send you a MARTY STU!!!!!!!!!!! MMMHHHHAHAHAHAHMMMAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!**

**-- Signed, the not remotely ghostly La Regina Phantom whom likes the odd flavored kinds of mountain dew. Such as live wire (orange), code red (cherry, and Midnight Black (grape). She is currently wishing for a raspberry flavor. Yes, she is insane. But happily so.**


End file.
